Guiltless
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: He wasn't as heartless as he seemed. But the others didn't see that. So when they go too far in their guilt tripping, they push him beyond the brink of sanity. And perhaps redemption, where only a past long gone can save him from evil again...
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**

I had a part of this written since early last year, then had no clue what to do with it. Originally, I planned it to be a oneshot, but now I've decided to expand it a bit and make it into a multi-chaptered story, so here's the prologue. And since it's the prologue, it's kinda short. The chapters themselves will be way longer.

Updates may be kinda slow, but we'll see how things go.

So please enjoy, and tell me what you think.

* * *

**Guiltless**

He wasn't as heartless as he seemed. But the others didn't see that. So when they go too far in their guilt tripping, they push him beyond the brink of sanity. And perhaps redemption, where only a past long gone can save him from evil again...

Ken I

* * *

**Prologue**

He stared expressionlessly at the two battling digimon in front of him. One was his own partner, Stingmon. The other, a custom control spire created one, courtesy of the white haired lady, of whom Ken was yet to know more about.

She was a threat to him. More so than to the other digidestinds. He had tried to atone his past sins, more for a peace of mind than he truly felt sorry for it. It's not that he wasn't, it was just that he was merely incapable of fully realising. He was too detached from his soul to be able to muster up and indulge in such deep and complex emotions. And so he settled for expressionless, masking the inner turmoil of his soul, unable to discern anything specific from it.

The other digidestinds didn't see that though. They still saw him as the heartless Digimon Emperor. And in all honestly, who could blame them, when all they had seen was his mask, even during his last moments of power.

They had not seen the broken boy who had stumbled, half-dead into his home days later, barely functioning due to lack of food and sleep, and hardly aware of his surroundings. In fact, it was a miracle that he had made it home at all, something that was enhanced due to the fact that he collapsed the minute he passed through the door. They hadn't seen the boy whose tears and guilt had racked his frame as he tried to right the wrongs of his past.

And they had not seen what had made him the monster he had become, what had moulded him from the sweet kind boy who adorned his brother and his digimon partner into a being of evil where his very innate personality was completely obliterated. A personality, which he was still trying to re-establish.

Nothing was as straight forward as it seemed, and it seemed that no-one really knew the full story. He himself was probably the only one who could have, only it appeared as though his descent into evil and the resulting trauma had left damage which ran far deeper than the chains of remorse.

He looked up, seeing the spire disintegrate with a final, well aimed kick. The control spires, created by his own hands and now used as tools of destruction. The spires he made, and yet did not understand.

He jerked slightly as the disintegrating pieces rained down, some falling too close for comfort. Even from such small fragments he could feel evil radiating from it.

Which then made him wander how he could have initially overlooked it.

'Ken?'

And here this lady was resurrecting their power.

'Ken?'

He glanced down, seeing that Stingmon had dedigivolved into his rookie stage and hooked himself onto his pant leg some time during his contemplations.

'Shall we go Ken?' he asked, looking up rather cutely to his digidestind partner.

He let a small smile grace his face.

'Of course Wormmon,' he said, kneeling down and holding out an arm so the worm like creature could crawl up his arm and settle comfortably on his shoulder.

Once the green digimon was secure, he stood again, seeing the sun dip is head in the distant horizon, before watching the scattered remains of the control spires be blown away by the gentle breeze, as if the world itself felt the evil that stemmed from it.

And somehow he knew, beginning to walk, that this was far from over.

And that white-haired lady still had a large role to play. As did the control spires.

And then there was the matter of the other digidestinds. After all, with all he'd done...did he have a right to ask their forgiveness?

And even if he did...would they forgive him?


	2. Expanding Circles

**Author's Notes**

The next chapters should have more action/less talk in them, but this one's the opposite (except for the last bit) for two reasons. Firstly, because it sorta follows one of the episodes (forgot the no.), and because it sets up the future chapters. The prologue was actually set a little later, so the main story actually starts (though I will go back to the amnesia episode later down the track) before the prologue and passes the epilogue (a tad different structure to my usual fics). What this chapter is mainly doing is highlighting various points that will repeat themselves more spatially in later chapters as well as nudging the plot along. Stuff do happen, it's just written in a more subjective manner. Later chapters I think reveals more important events in a dialogue/action base.

Anywho, enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Expanding Circles**

'Ken?'

'Hmm..?"

'What's the matter?'

The boy turned to the in-training digimon, the cute yet wise Minomon floating next to his pillow with a soft pout on his lips, and almost let a smile grace his features. Something held him back however, a reflexive and almost innate response which disallowed the expression of such contentment for the dark stain which blotted his heart.

Minomon, floating aside the pillow, showed as much worry as he could express in such a form, which was a tad difficult due to the outer simplicity, but manageable all the same. 'Ken?' he tried again, eyes soft yet waiting to observe and too hawk-like in that particular aspect to let the worm slide.

He sighed inwardly, before formulating a reply which directed his worried partner's attention. Because he knew he was not the only one burdened with guilt although he felt many a time that he was the only one who should. However, while the blame could, in an unbiased sense, be divided amongst numerous constituents, Minomon, regardless of his form, could not be held accountable in all objectiveness. But it was a cursed cycle; guilt always seemed to lead to more guilt, and in such an instance, his guilt would become his partner's and the perimeter would widen. Continuing would cause it to widen infinitely, and so silence kept the circle as small as possible.

He sighed again, out loud this time and letting air escape its confinements as one sometimes did under the impression of having over-eaten. 'It's nothing really,' he said in reply, keeping himself from slouching over the desk chair. 'I just ate too much at dinner.' And it was the truth. Just a different branch of it.

Minomon blinked, and the worry faded some, though still shadowing as though he knew to some level what was lacking in the answer. Which he did really, and they both knew. 'That doesn't sound like you.'

He was right of course. After all, no-one knew Ken better than his partner did. No-one knew the small habits that made him who he was…something that for the longest time he alone knew as his best friend and human partner lost his identity in the sea of darkness, and ironically guilt: the wide cycle which had come again in a full circle and was now re-expanding and reshaping its form.

It was amazing though, that sometimes all it took to uplift that was a smile stemming from something one would otherwise deem negligible.

'I normally just eat one bowl,' he explained. 'But my folks seemed concerned, so I ate a little more than I usually do.'

'You ate more for your parents?'

When it was put that way…

'Who would have ever thought that?' A slight smile crept across his face as he remembered how happy his parents had been; the shining light in his mother's eyes, several aging lines vanishing from his father's face…it was remarkable the change a simple action could make, and it certainly did much to lighten the atmosphere that seemed doomed to hover and strain the small family. 'Boy were they happy.'

The smile was small, but enough for Minomon to let go of what remained of his worry…for the time being. Because afterwards, inevitably, came sleep, and when undisrupted, nightmares.

But for now, that was simply a shadow looming in the background.

If only it could stay that way. But it couldn't. Or wouldn't.

* * *

Sleeping was always difficulty when such thoughts constantly plagued ones mind in the waking hours, but there were times, rare as they were, where it was eased and reprieve was temporarily granted to all. After all, just as there were times in which one could not help but cry in the collective, there were times also wherein one cannot help but laugh in happiness or contentment or even in form of release when emotions bottled inside seek to be expelled, in any way.

In any way; it sounded so morbid, so hopeless as though death itself was the only release. But perhaps not to all; he knew he would have once said something along the lines of "extreme circumstances call for extreme measures". In other words, it was a license for bending or breaking the rules. And he was sure that any adventurous eight year old would have thought similarly.

But in any case, the temporary relief granted a small reprieve, so the human and digimon pairs slept side by side, sharing the same pillow, the same blanket…essentially as close to the same space as they would get without removing each other from existence. And the same time in which things remained undisturbed was unconsciously savored…until they were disrupted.

It is said, and widely accepted, that natural darkness is the realm of sleep of consciousness. Penetrating light, therefore, was as good a way as any to bring out of such restful state.

And that is exactly what the computer monitor accomplished.

A drowsy Ken blinked away the shadows and attempted to focus on the scene in front while simultaneously cursing and resigning himself to the disruption to his rest. He cursed because the sleep, currently free from the overhanging guilt and its continually changing expanse, and yet another part of his subconsciousness accepted it as inevitable because he deserved it.

Prematurely awoken, it took a precious moment for reality to click, in which he blinked stupidly at the luminescent screen, half-consciously flinching away from the light on reflex before his pupils adjusted and lessoned the impact.

And that was when he first saw that woman, cold amethyst eyes turning to bore into his own before the red lips twisted into a thin smirk.

'Oh, Emperor.' She sounded neither surprised nor apologetic, but rather a tad mocking. 'Is your reprieve being again denied?'

That threw the ex-emperor for a loop momentarily, as the only ones aware of that other than himself was Minomon, wide awake and floating protectively in front of his face. The fact that this woman, whoever she was, knew, meant…

'It's a shame,' she remarked coyly, turning fully and masking the bright screen, purposely defining each sound that hovered on her lips as she expelled them. 'You had so much potential. And yet you wasted it. How unfortunate…rotting away in your confinement while you see what you could have become.'

Her smirk widened to its upmost as silence greeted her epitaph, and she purposely turned and shielded her eyes from his own; the cold amethyst glittering strangely and being eerily projected by the screen…

…and then she was gone, and the machine took up its dormancy once more. A restful sleep which once again had been denied to him.

'Is she gone?' Minomon asked, in a tone that insinuated a child's innocence. A tone one would use when inquiring as to whether or not their older brother had scared away the monster in the closet, or beneath the bed.

But he had long lost that. Probably the second he had willed his brother dead. Perhaps before. And that was something he could never get back.

'I hope so,' he replied softly, propping himself on an elbow and scanning the room. His heart though wasn't in the reply. After all, the demons never left the damned. And his would always plague him.

The in-training digimon, satisfied with the reply, settled back onto the pillow and was asleep within minutes. The other though, lying back down beside his partner, stared at the ceiling as he tried to erase the words now engraved in his mind.

Sleep did not come to him again that night.

* * *

The first rays of dawn were like a beckoning beacon to mist, piercing the night sky and calling all to wake to the new day with the promise that rest awaited at the end if it. Give it a few minutes, sometimes an hour, sometimes two, or more, and life all over would be answering the call.

But to those that had been denied the night's reward, the call went heard and seen but unneeded. And so it was that the tapping of keys preceded the sun's rising, as Ken scanned his computer again and again, failing to find what the white-haired lady had done.

'Ken?' Minomon asked blurrily, the sun's shine on his face waking him 'What are you doing?'

'Looking for what that woman did,' the bluenette answered, quickly browsing through the last of the programmes before determining that nothing had been changed or removed. 'That's odd,' he murmured to himself, before realisation suddenly hit, kindly informing him that he had wasted the last hour on stupidity, before pulling his D-3 and D-terminal from the drawer and connecting them to the system.

'Ken?' Minomon asked again with increasing worry, especially as the boy-genius flopped back into his chair with the head colliding with the table straight after. But while increasing the worry, it also lessened the confusion, as the black and white pixilated screen no longer obscured was all too familiar, mirroring a simpler map at the Emperor's base. The only difference was the black squares outnumbered the predecessor.

'Is that-?'

'The Control Spires,' Ken groaned, voice muffled by the wood. 'She copied their data off my hard-disk. _That's_ what she was doing last night. And activating the old ones as well.'

He lifted his head slightly and the screen consumed his peripheral vision. The black, more numerous than ever before polluted the screen, carving a path through the Server Desert, the mountains…and in other places, a single oe, beckoning and mocking. Mocking his shame, his mistakes, his guilt. Mocking _him_…and the other Digidestineds who had knocked the abominations down only for them to rise up again and gloat.

And it was a victorious gloat, because not one of them understood what they truly dd. Not even him, the Digimon Emperor, the one who had created them and harnessed a mere fraction of their potential power.

And seeing that black expanse consuming his sight made him sick; just knowing that _he_ had set the groundwork for that that, know he was the one at fault, and just seeing the evidence in front of his eyes in perfect black and white.

'We'll get rid of them,' Minomon interrupted his inner musings. 'We'll make those black squares white.'

Kin grinned at his partner, but it wasn't genuine. 'Yeah,' he agreed out loud. Deep down though, he wasn't sure.

Was it a sign that he would never be free of it all, that others would have to always unfairly carry that burden…or was it something more, that he couldn't see in the sea of black?

He seriously doubted it. But that didn't mean that he couldn't hope a fool's hope.

'Well,' he sighed, standing up. 'There's no time like the present to get started.'

'But Ken,' Minomon pointed out. 'Aren't you going to school?'

He groaned, looking at the clock. Apparently, the time had passed faster than he thought, and in all honesty, school was the last place he wanted to go. Within those barbed wire gates were constant reminders of a person that was not him, and should never have been but yet had. And every minute he spent confined in there was another minute he in which he faced the darker side of him and the influence of which he was trying to change…too late. Three years had cemented the Emperor's influence in the image of the boy genius that had surpassed his brother and role model: the famous "Rocket" on the soccer field, the titles and records held in various competitions and examinations, the commercials he starred in and the fame and revenue he reaped from it, and now trying to overturn it all seemed almost impossible, as though he was trying to turn the earth itself inside out. Perfection was the epitome; replacing that with weakness was inacceptable.

His grades had slipped in the aftermath, as had his mask. And with both those defences gone, he found himself at a new end in his twisted web. Because before, there had been Sam. Now there was Minomon, but he couldn't take him to school. He couldn't scare off kids before they got too rowdy. He couldn't stop the words that only now pierced the poker face and cut through the skin. In that aspect, he was alone, collecting the payment from when he had been untouchable.

Another reminder. Another stimulator. Another point in the circle.

'School?' Minomon asked again as the other slumped, tucking the devices into his bag after unplugging them.

'After school,' he promised, before grabbing his uniform and leaving the room.

* * *

School was always a dreary grey; the buildings, the paths, even the students were clothed in it. It was private, one of those posh schools where you had to meet the standards or not belong. And with the way the school was run, everyone would know in a matter of hours.

That was all it had taken for the cement of the prodigy's reign to crumble, dragging itself by the tail as the expectations remained solidified yet contradictions began to emerge. Some students laughed at his failures, latching on to the opportunity to ridicule him and prove his humanity (in a rather ironic sense one would believe), or else they believed and spread the most inconceivable reasons. Funnily enough, most circled around the notion that there was something wrong with him.

Perhaps there was. It all depended on the definition. And the partial amnesia still hovering didn't help matters at all.

He snorted to himself. That would be right: genius turned nut-case if one would be so blunt.

Others still scowled at his arrogance: the license of perfection allowing him the freedom to muck, as he once did. Teachers and fans showed a different reaction. They still expected the person he had been before, thinking of the recent change as the pre-teen's rebellious phase, and it appeared animals too expected repetition of the previous behavior.

Like the cat that immediately scurried from his path as he cut through the park and into the school compound.

He no longer belonged. He had to wonder if he ever had. Being alone was so much easier, but at the same time it was something he feared. Because where then was his rope?

Better to be the black sheep in the flock. Even if the flock wasn't his own.

But listening to the whispered laughter around him as people wondered off in different directions, he had to wonder when was the last time he had truly laughed like that with a friend himself. Probably before his brother's accident, maybe even earlier. In fact, he couldn't ever remember having any real friends apart from his brother at all, or so his mind said. His heart said otherwise.

The bell rang then, a loud, piercing sound that summoned all.

* * *

His brain felt as though it was stuffed with fog. Probably had something to do with the lack of sleep finally taking its toll, but regardless, it make it extra difficult to focus on class and dig up the motivation to learn. Not even knowing that he couldn't risk falling even more behind after being missing for two months and kept from school for another half was enough to keep his brain on sharp alert. In fact, it was more a motivation to dull it, because knowledge was power, and he had already proven he couldn't be trusted with it.

In the simplest terms, he was afraid and lost.

As a result, science passed in a daze, and then English and humanities. Math was more awkward, as not only was the class informed of an upcoming test, but he was called upon to answer a question another student had failed. So did he after sparing it miniscule thought, and the teacher was disappointed, the students somewhere between shock, anger or glee.

And then a lone but nutritious home-cooked lunch that his mother had packed in the crowded cafeteria, hoping Minomon had eaten his fill from the food in the closet and waving off an enthusiastic fan-girl who was yet to realize the prodigy's reign was over.

It was a nice feeling, knowing someone was waiting, someone who wasn't obliged to do so by family ties or any equivalent. But at the same time, a dark pit sat in his stomach, telling him it was a fruit he didn't deserve, but all the same, it was the light keeping his head above the water. That at least he would latch on to as his savior, as the life boat in a raging sea…because to some degree one could argue, and have, that he deserved that at least, and if anyone could say it didn't, the decision was ultimately in the hands of the light itself, the one sparing him from the consequences.

After all, he still believed there was a such thing as mercy in the world.

The lunch vanished with the time, and next was sport in a more awake mind which hadn't, for good or ill, appeared to have suffered from the Emperor's fall as of the two days he had been back at school, and then home, a brief exchange with his parents, and after that, the Digital World, leaving the shadow of a different reality behind them.

A world in which the shadows were accumulating. A world in which he was simply stirring the breeze while waiting for the storm to hit.

* * *

Somehow, the Digital World looked so grey and dull, far unlike the rich and vibrant colour that had exploded from Primary Village. It mirrored the first time he had come, the dark waters washing along the shore, the black tower standing tall –

He bit his lip to stifle a gasp as he spied the same tower rising up from the forest hills, visible even through the dense canopy they stood under, and just past that, he could barely make out a flash of washed-out colour that looked vaguely familiar, and yet not.

'Wormmon?', he asked, as it was the insectoid rookie that once again stood beside. 'Shouldn't the Primary village be at the end of this forest?'

'Of course,' the digimon answered, rearing up on his hind legs to peer at his partner's pale face, blue eyes staring straight ahead. 'What do you mean?'

'It's so…pale.' The words simply fell from his lips as the eyes stared, transfixed by the bloched pink that was, even now, fading to a dull grey. 'What happened to the colour?'

The digimon looked in the direction, but after the spying the coloured tower newly repaired that his partner was referring to, he turned back, worry once again rising inside of him. 'What do you mean?' he asked. 'It looks perfectly normal from here.'

'No, it's – ' He stopped suddenly as a wave of dizziness flowed through him, before continuing edgily. 'It looks like the color's been washed out.'

The insectoid looked back again, wondering whether or not he had missed something in his last scan, but another look yielded no results. Except the numerous control spires littered the forest.

'Maybe it's the control spires,' the digimon suggested. 'Let's get rid of them and see.' He paused as something suddenly occurred to him. 'How am I going to evolve?'

Ken pulled out his digivice, still coated as black as the sin he carried. 'I programmed the digivice to allow digivolution even in the presence of the spires,' he said quietly, before giving a wry smile. 'Looks like it came in handy. Though I don't remember you ever evolving before…'

A light laugh came from behind them. 'For a genius, you're not too smart. Are you little boy?'

'Tut tut,' she laughed as the rookie bared his teeth, or what could be called teeth, at her. 'Don't go losing your temper now.'

'What are you doing here?' Ken growled. 'And what have you done?'

The woman tusked again. 'Really Ken dear, is that any of your business? But if you must know...' She trailed off, twirling a single strand of hair around her index finger before tugging it off. 'I'm completing the work you left undone…but I came to simply install an insurance policy.' She sighed dramatically. 'Well timed too, it seems. But you nosy little brats just don't know when not to interfere.'

The hair strand straightened, strong, thin and ultimately needle like, an idea which was reinforced as she pressed the tip into the nearest control spire. 'Enjoy your little playmate,' she smirked. 'Spirit Needle!'

When the sudden burst of light faded, the mysterious woman was gone, as was the Control Spire. In their place however as a devil of the past after their blood.


	3. Devil Whispers

**Author's Notes**

Man that chapter took forever to write up. And it wasn't like it took a backwater this time either. I really hope the rest of the story doesn't take as long as it's first three chapters.

By the way, note that Ken acts far more vulnerable straight after the Digimon Emperor incident, but even then seems more open to Wormmon than anyone else, even in the Dark Ocean incident that got Kari to open up to Yolei. He seemed to me to have a mask on with the digidestineds until he got more comfortable with them.

Enjoy, and tell me what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Devil Whispers**

They say 'better the devil you know than the devil you don't', but that failed to hold when what little one knew simply expanded the range of ignorance. And the power of darkness was unfortunately one of those very things.

A startlingly vivid image of TK's face suddenly shone in his mind; small, pale, stricken...hidden behind anger disguised or perhaps warped into something else, in a way only one who relied on rationale more than instinct could accomplish. The pity that lurked behind hatred, the pain that had surfaced in something that had not even been intended to have any relation to him. Then the whip striking through the air, attempting to shatter the very image of rejection and pressing defiance, only to strike the edge and leave only the slightest mark to further spurn the parry.

He had understood more than himself at that point; the power of darkness, that dark whirlpool, _Devimon_...what a fool he had been to ever think he could control such absolute power. Such a fool to ever begin to hope to understand...

'Didn't I tell you to beware the darkness?'

The tone was conversational, teasing even, but with it, old memories surfaced.

'_Beware the darkness.'_

'_I'm the most powerful figure in the digital world, and some digimon emerges from a whirlpool and tells _me_ to beware the darkness? Hah!'_

Maniacal laughter ensured, and it took Wormmon's cry to alert him to the fact that it wasn't _his_ laughter echoing from the past, but the demon in front of him.

'Ken,' the worm digimon persisted again, nudging his pant leg. 'What is it?'

He forced a smile on his face, attempting to ignore the suffocating feeling that grew stronger, and the slight cold that was starting to creep in through his grey blazer.

Wormmon looked sceptical, but dismissed it. 'I have to digivolve Ken.'

Another bout interrupted the unsaid reply. 'You can't digivolve, you pathetic little worm.'

_A flying kick, strong and hard, knocked the little worm to his side with a cry of pain._

_ 'Pathetic little worm,' he spat._

A growl, this time from an angry partner. 'Silk thread!'

The razor sharp threads he spat out were easily clawed away by the fallen angel. 'Pathetic.'

'Don't call him pathetic,' Ken spat, ignoring the greying surroundings and the whispering voices to focus on the battle before him.

'Why not?' the devil asked, almost conversationally as he took another swipe at the digimon to send him tumbling. 'He _is_ just an insect to you. A disgusting little worm.'

_'Get away from me. You're sliming up my pants.'_

'Ken?' Wormmon looked worriedly up at his partner, having crawled back to his feet and at a loss at the comment. Who had been calling who pathetic? No-one, as far as he knew, and his hearing was pretty sharp; an evolutionary trait he fathomed, as it was quite useful for worms to be able to hear and spot birds from a distance and flee before they became grub. Which left only two options: a control spire turned Devimon could talk telepathically, which he highly doubted, or Ken was hearing voices again.

He pulled on the pant leg, as he always did when wanting the other's undivided attention. Problem was, that meant that neither of them were paying any attention to their adversary, whose long hands had entrapped them in a metre radius before Ken noted the pressure and looked down, only to find a dark arm more pronounced than anything save the friend at his feet.

'Uh...Wormmon?' he asked hesitantly. 'Do you know any way we can fly?'

'Huh?' The digimon blinked at the odd question, before following the other's gaze. 'Oh, um, well...' He stuttered for a bit, before gaining his composure. 'My champion form can-watch out!' he shouted suddenly, firing a silk thread past the surprised human and hitting the claw that had reaching for him. It was hopeless though, because it had done nothing.

Ken began turning, hearing the sharp thread pick strike something solid, but the claw, tinted with dark energy, would undoubtedly be faster. In his mind's eye, he saw the skull-boned Chimeramon lunging for his partner, Wormmon cutting through the air with a fierce determination he had till then come to forgotten , arching into the air like a graceful-

-hold on a sec. Arching _up_ into the air.

No, he wasn't mistaken. Wormmon had just jumped past him, just in time to put himself between the predator and the prey.

The predator-prey relationship has always been an integral part of balancing nature. Humans think themselves to be at the apex of the cycle at times, but the truth is that no circle has a pedestal, a throne, where one species could comfortably sit without another pushing them down.

The most prominent aspect of a circle, save its lack of a beginning and end, was it's lack of a straight direction. Always, it curved: towards someone, away from someone...and this was one of the times it was doing both.

Wormmon has just jumped past him, facing the demon that should have been _his_ to face. And he, he was just standing there, stock still in a frozen horror, sort of like how he had when black spores had flown through the air at someone, and without thinking, he had lunged forward-

It was only when he felt Wormmon's antenna's involuntarily twitch that he realised he had. But the grip of evil was too close now; they'd both be caught.

Wormmon...no, he didn't deserve it. He would _never_ deserve it. No-one did...except the one who had created that evil. Except him.

'Ken!'

He closed his eyes...only to open them again at the sudden rush of air striking past him.

'Wha-?' He broke off, head tilting back from the momentum to gape at the wasp-like creature that carried him in a firm grip. 'Wormmon?' he guessed, recognising the features that had carried through the evolution.

'Stingmon,' the champion corrected, rising higher into the sky as far below, black winds prepared to follow.

'Stingmon...' he tasted the name on his lips, finding it almost natural. The wind still rushed past them, and voices hummed in his ear, but the wind was so loud that it drowned out the whispers of the devil.

'Who were you talking to before?' the wasp asked, veering to avoid a dark shot before changing direction, leaving the main question underlying it. _Are you hearing voices again?_

'I-I'm not sure,' the other replied. 'I thought, that Devimon, like the Dark Whirlpool...but now, I didn't see his lips moving at all. My head feels clearer up here.'

The digimon made a buzzing noise, before swerving gracefully again. 'Ken,' he began. 'If I could put your demons to rest, I would.'

'I know,' the boy smiled, allowing that one comfort. 'But they're my demons. Don't make them yours on my account. This is a mistake I need to fix by myself.'

'No,' Stingmon corrected. 'Not by yourself. I am as much to blame as you.'

No...no he wasn't. But there was no use telling him that. He would just get the same reply back...and who knew, perhaps they were both right?

'We'll start with the Control Spires,' Ken decided. 'No-one else needs wayward demons running after them.'

Neither did they...but guilt was a hard burden to bear, a blindfold tight enough that it could only ever be truly removed by another willing to push past.

'Death hand!'

Stingmon easily dodged in the air.

'He is just a Control Spire,' he said to his human partner. 'There is no emotion, no life. Nothing, save bits of darkness sewn together. If we are to stop him, we can only destroy him. Otherwise he will simply continue his pursuit. And I know that is not an end you want.'

Devimon. A demon digimon, controlling the powers of darkness on his whim, capable of molding the perfect warrior, created by a woman who desired the emperor far more than his downfall-

There was _no_ way he was going to give them what they wanted. But what was the alternative. Killing-

'No,' Stingmon interrupted, reading the thoughts perfectly. 'It is not killing when there is no soul. We are simply destroying a control spire...just one that fights back with the grace of a buffoon.'

Ken stifled a laugh at that. 'Was that last comment necessary?'

'Yes,' the other replied, and in perfect seriousness. 'But you know as well as I do that sometimes there is no choice but to kill or watch others, sometimes even yourself, be killed. It's always hard to do, but in the end it comes down to what is more important.'

Stingmon was right. He did know, though he wasn't sure how. It was as if he'd been through that very battle before, but simply not remembering it. He imagined though it was one of those things similar to riding a bike; the experience never truly left you.

'Stingmon,' he said in any case, as the two shot forward. 'You don't have to ask.'

'I know,' the other said truthfully. 'But I ask you anyway.'

He spun in the air, dodging Devimon once more as mauve blades emerged from his arms. 'Ready to shatter a nightmare?'

Ken nodded in equal seriousness, the wind still deafening his ears. 'Yes.'

'Spiking strike!'

* * *

'Things look brighter now,' Ken said quietly as the two landed in the merciful silence amidst the shattering data of the control-spire turned fiend.

'Yes they do,' Stingmon replied, knowing exactly what his human partner meant, touching down gently onto the lush grass outside primary village and setting the boy on his feet, before looking around. 'There doesn't seem to be any other control spires here.'

The Digidestined of Kindness frowned. He was sure there had been one. Up on the ridge.

'Ken?'

He voiced his opinion, and the wasp turned and hummed in that direction. 'There's no sign of one now,' he commented. 'But you're right. I think I remember seeing it too.'

'Which means that weird woman's turned it into another digimon.' His eyes narrowed as he looked towards the village. 'They'll have no idea who they're dealing with.'

'Shall we go?' Stingmon asked, looking at the human. He knew well what 'they' had meant. He had after all seeing the other Digidestined from the air, even if they had been themselves moving too fast to be spotted for someone not specifically looking for them.

'You go. You might need both hands.'

'Ken...'

'I'll catch up. I promise.'

Stingmon agreed to that, taking into the air again.

* * *

They watched him. He watched them. The tension in the air was so thick that a sharp cleaver made from chrome digizoid would have trouble cutting through it.

Stingmon dedigivolved, turning into Wormmon in the crook of Ken's elbow as an assortment of digimon and humans watched them, each with their first, and differing, emotions showing on their face. All of them looked shocked, and slightly apprehensive, frozen in that state even after having seen the face of the new leaf. And who could blame them? Knowing that people didn't change overnight, and knowing, seeing, what he had done...what he was capable of.

They didn't know the extent of his sin. And he wouldn't tell. To them, he had just killed an innocent digimon. To him, he was one grain of sand closer to eradicating his sins.

Turning, Wormmon comfortable and secure in his hold, he leapt gently from the roof he had been standing on. Freshly painted and fixed, he noted. They were making an effort to fix his mistakes, something _he_ should be doing...but it was more important to stop others from getting hurt at that point than fixing the damage already done.

The last hints of the conversation floated up to them, clearer than they should have been, both affirming and rebuking that claim. In any case, they solidified one belief.

'So...Ken saved Cody?'

'Sure looks that way.'

'No, it can't be.'

And that last statement had been said so solidly and venomously that there was no room for dispute.

Avoiding the area that housed the cradles (he remembered that well from his last visit), he threaded his way towards the nearest Digiport and away from the village. He could feel eyes on him, but he ignored them, face still set in the blank mask behind which remnants of a devil still lurked.

At the digiport, he paused, spying something on the floor beside the glowing screen.

A lens cleaner. How...ironic.

He snatched it from the sudden swirl of wind that threatened to blow it to who knew where. A storm was starting to pick up.

He looked at the piece of cloth again: dirtied, soiled, but still somehow maintaining a sort of purity in it.

'Yolei will be wanting this back.' But he didn't sound so sure. Instead, he stared at it a moment longer, before slipping it into his pocket and returning home.


	4. Courage Sought

**Author's Notes**

The Windy Village with the Floramon and Mushroomon is based off the one in season four, where Zoe Orimoto finds her human spirit. For some reason, I distinctly remember Floramon fleeing from Kimeramon, so this image sort of stuck. And hey, whatever works.

And that Floramon (the leader) is one they (Ken and Ryo) met during their travels. That's what she was taking about. But Ken's got (partial) amnesia, remember?

As for the bit with Davis, we all know what happens there.

Enjoy, and tell me someone's still reading this!

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Courage Sought**

Perhaps stepping off that train in Odaiba wasn't the hardest thing he had ever done, but it came close. The first was probably facing up to Sam's death. The second would be facing Wormmon's, and making the decision to change for good, despite the fact that no change ever came easy, especially when ideas were cemented into the world they walked upon. The third had been a long withheld confrontation with his parents, which actually worked out better than he had thought; he had apparently underestimated them…just as he had underestimated the Digidestined. Just as he had underestimated Sam. The next was coming face to face with the Digidestined after what he had done to them.

No-one bothered to tell him to forgive himself. In fact, Wormmon was the only one who essentially could, the only one who knew the whole story, but not even he did. Most of him knew it was because the rookie realised that such words were hollow, meaning nothing if the person themselves weren't ready for that, and in any case, only time and new-forging bonds could do that. A smaller part believed it was because he blamed him, but the barest look into the doe blue eyes would turn that around in a heartbeat.

Time and time again, he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have Wormmon as a friend.

In fact, it was Wormmon (or Minomon rather) who had…forced, for lack of a better term, him on this train to begin with. He had been tempted to just post the stupid thing, but no. His digimon partner decides it's a good opportunity to at least _try_ to talk to the others, and since a conveniently left behinds lens cleaner was in the house, there was an excuse to trigger some sort of situation.

But at that point, where the doors had automatically opened and others streamed past him to their destination, he was starting to get cold feet. He couldn't resist an almost mirth laughter. He, the supposed cool as a cucumber Ken Ichijoji, was getting cold feet. Not that he was any of those things anymore…except perhaps the last. Or not. The Japanese name meant "strong" or "physically healthy". Okay, he was fine, physically speaking, except when the sleepless nights decided to show their face, mercifully broken by the instances where not even nightmares or half-blotted memories could keep him from much needed rest. Strong he was not. That was what had started this whole mess.

He had stumbled off the train before realising it. Yes, stumbled. With the help of a little hyperactive girl with her hair done in cute brown curls. For some reason, that innocent bouncy image stuck. It reminded him of another child bouncing around their elder brother. Said elder brother even wore the same look: half grinning, half annoyed.

He may have lived in Tamachi for his entire life, but he knew Odaiba well enough, namely because of the soccer matches, interviews and competitions that tended to spread districts. So he knew the way to Odaiba elementary school.

He had, unfortunately been held up on the way, seeing as this part of town had not heard of his fall from grace. To be honest, the only two communities who had noted the change from "Digimon Emperor Ken" to just plain old "Ken" were his family community (which had somehow managed to draw in one of his mother's clients, a Ms Aihara, when he had somewhat spontaneously picked up the phone. The single working lady had been quite pleasantly surprised), and his school community, namely because they had a habit of posting scores on the notice boards for everybody to see, and his grades and consequent rank were slipping down, visible enough to be seen. He had been lucky to pass that latest math test; it wasn't that he didn't know how to answer the questions though, his mind just seemed to be somewhere else lately.

The elementary school was showed, but not particularly dark, seeing as it was still before sunset. The autumn afternoons were getting colder, but there was a long way yet till winter and Christmas, so his school blazer provided enough physical warmth. He didn't enter the building though; he didn't belong there. Even if was, notable past tense, a celebrity, he would technically be trespassing into a school's grounds after hours without permission. He didn't need to anyway; he could see the Digidestined slipping out stealthily (they weren't supposed to be there any more than the next guy), heading through busy crowds towards an intersection. The same crowd hid him well as he slipped in to follow. Or rather, his feet did. He didn't recall consciously telling them anything; apparently, the "genius" sub-conscience was acting.

Funny thing was, even if he was far and in between enough within the grasp of the crowds of people that he couldn't be seen and couldn't see those he was following (the two sides had equilibrated at that point as they continued to fight), he could hear them well enough. And to be honest, he was entirely flabbergasted why no-one else was picking up on the discussion. He supposed most people didn't indulge into the little snippits of the world that didn't relate to them and didn't make sense.

As it was, the first thing he heard when he got close enough was:

'Uurgh, don't remind me.' Yolei he assumed. He'd heard her voice enough, but not quite with the disgusted tone it held right then. 'I couldn't help the fact that he was cute. And smart. And talented. And-'

'Enough Yolei,' another female voice laughed, softer. Kari. 'You're blabbing.'

'They were a waste on him anyway.' A younger voice, male, but sounding perfectly serious and a little grave, and additionally a tad bitter. 'Sure he was smart, but look at what he done with that. He used his talents on destroying the Digital World. The spires, the dark rings and spirals…Kimeramon. He doesn't even deserve Wormmon as a partner.'

'You know,' Kari said softly. 'I thought he had changed. Really I did, when Wormmon got hurt like that. If Wormmon was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for Ken-'

He had known they were talking about him.

'- then there must have been something there. Wormmon helped Davis remember, and Agumon? I don't, didn't, think he would have just blindly followed Ken, but-'

'-the way he mercilessly ordered Stingmon to go in for the kill,' Yolei finished. 'That poor Thundermon. I don't believe it.' Then, slightly sorrowfully. 'I've got the worst luck with guys.'

'Except Michael,' the child of light comforted.

'True,' the child of love and sincerity amended. 'But it's hard to maintain a long distance relationship. In any case…' He voice seemed to have reverted back to the old tone. 'I wouldn't want to kiss him if he came crawling to me on all fours and was the last guy on earth. Though he probably would have been responsible for killing the others.'

'Come on Yolei,' Kari attempted to placate, perhaps a little half-heartedly. 'Despite everything he did, he's no murderer.'

'I think he is,' Cody interjected flatly. 'Thundermon may have attacked us for no reason, but that didn't give him the right to order Stingmon to kill him.'

'That's right.' In the little gap through the crowd, Ken saw her cross her arms and scowl. 'Nothing gave him that right. What he's done was unforgivable, especially when we were ready to forgive him.' He heard some sort of a disgusted sound. 'Bleh, and I wanted his germs on my hand. I can't believe Davis-'

He lost them at that point, not that he really cared.

It didn't matter. Yolei would obviously prefer her lens cleaner missing then in his hold. And they were right. He was a monster, and he had no right to ask for their forgiveness.

Except for Thundermon. Because they obviously didn't know he had been a control spire and not a real digimon. But then again, that was due to his sin to begin with.

He didn't turn and run. He didn't really feel like it, though most people in his shoes would have done so. Instead, he stood alone and small in the crowd, before slowly beginning the long route home.

* * *

On the way from Tamachi station, he bumped into Davis Motomiya. Well, more like the peppy brunette chased him for a few paces along the riverside before he yielded in lieu of causing a scene, wishing he had taken Minomon to school with him, especially when he spied DemiVeemon in the leader's soccer bag.

'Yo man,' he said cheerfully, quite contraire to what he had expected. But then again, he had seen the boy make some rather rash decisions, which sometimes worked out well, and sometimes not. 'What's up?'

* * *

He had blabbed on a lot after that, but he had meant well. Or he had appeared to in any case. It could have been part of a more elaborate point to crush him completely. Apparently, he was starting to get rather paranoid. Sleeplessness and nightmares impinging upon the night tended to do that.

He wound up returning home with the lens cleaner still in his pocket. Minomon noted that, but made no comment, instead floating down the hallway and begging for a snack.

That would cheer any Digidestined up, especially when they were well used to their in-training partners being bottom-less pits, until they wore holes into their allowance anyway. And even then, they didn't truly mind. Digimon friends were more important than a game at the arcade after all.

They enjoyed the Japanese fruit cake his mother had left for them, quietly, as they always did, washing it down with some tea. Minomon took his in little nibbled pieces which Ruki Ichijoji had thoughtfully pre-prepared. Ken just absentmindedly speared his.

Then he tried to concentrate on his homework. Key word: tried. He only managed to get through the pre-calculus problems before he simply could not focus any more.

'Should we go to the Digital World?' Minomon asked, watching his partner struggle through a literature essay.

Ken looked at the clock. 'Too close to dinner,' he said, somewhat disappointedly. 'Mum will think I've disappeared again if I'm not in my room once she's done with the curry.'

'After dinner?' the in-training digimon asked hopefully.

Ken smiled, just a bit as he attempted to continue reading. 'Just a bit.'

Why did stories make everything seem so simple?

* * *

True to his word, they went into the Digital World after dinner, confident that Ken's parents wouldn't drop in until about ten thirty, by which time he should be on his way to bed. He knew the Primary Village was well on its way to being repaired, so he figured he could probably help elsewhere. Perhaps the Windy Village where the Floramon and Mushroomon lived; that had taken quite a hard hit from the rampaging Kimeramon.

He winced at the image, but set off, Wormmon, now evolved into his rookie form, following.

Only, they were stopped by the Mushroomon brothers at the border.

'Why are you here?' the one in the middle growled. 'Even without your fancy hair and clothes, we can see you're the Digimon Emperor.'

He was starting to wish he had chosen a more deserted location. If only so he wouldn't have to deal with this again. Baby digimon were one thing; there had been two on his side. The Poyomon in the cradle, then Leafmon.

At least there was still Wormmon.

'We're here to help,' he said in his innocent, cheerful voice. 'Anything we can do?'

The three brothers (assuming that's what they were) stared at him, then at the human. 'As if we'd let the Digimon Emperor destroy what's left,' the one to the right scoffed. 'No can do. And if you were any good, you wouldn't be with him.'

Wormmon reared on his back legs, but Ken scooped him off the ground in a comforting hold. 'Please,' he said, bowing as best and as humbly as he could. 'I know I've done a lot of bad things in the past-'

'That's an understatement,' the one to the left snorted, unintentionally spraying spores onto the ground.

'But I really want to help. Please.'

The three looked at each other a little uncertainly, before simultaneously scowling. 'Like we'd fall for that.'

'Yeah!' another pair bounced up, having heard that last part, and looked younger and more volatile than their triplet counterparts. 'He should pay for what he did!'

'Uh, Ken-?' Wormmon began, at a bit of a loss. They couldn't attack; they'd be proving them right. They couldn't let them attack and revolt; they'd get creamed.

Luckily, they didn't need to make a choice, as a Floramon from the rejuvenating garden chose that moment to interrupt the conversation.

'Whatever he did,' she said firmly, staring at the Mushrooms. 'We do not have the right to begrudge him of a second chance. If he truly wants to help, then we should let him do so.'

'But what if he destroys everything again?' one of the younger pair wailed miserably. 'Our home was dust! Dust!'

'Then we'll rebuild again,' she replied, staring at the human and his partner. 'But how can someone prove they've changed when no-one gives them that chance.'

She pointed to three Floramon struggling with a large beam. 'Go help them out.'

He went immediately, thankful for the petal digimon. Not that he could blame the others; they were still rather hostile, even after the theatre house was standing tall after three solid hours.

'That's just how they are,' the Floramon said warmly at the end of it, rather relieved that her gamble had paid off. 'You can't expect people to suddenly change their minds about you.'

'No,' Ken shook their head. 'Of course I cannot.'

The Floramon, the leader of the village, glanced at him. 'You also can't expect them to hold you for your mistakes forever. They'll come to see the sweet child that travelled and spread kindness wherever he went.'

She said that as though she knew, but it was, at that point, drowned out by something else.

A feeling of dread following, drawing closer. Waves lapping on a faraway shore.

He felt Wormmon latch onto his leg as he looked around. 'There're control spires on that ridge.'

'Do you want me to get rid of them?'

No, he wanted to tear them down himself. But he couldn't do it alone.

He forced a smile on his face, the happiness from the simple tasks fading fast as the darkness loomed ever so closer, reaching out for him. 'Sure Wormmon.'

He pulled out his D-3.

'Wormmon digivolve to…Stingmon!'

A few Spiking Strikes turned the towers into rubble.


	5. Bitter Memories

**Author's Notes**

Part of this is inspired by Elfen Lied. Namely the voice talking to him and the wrapped up Emperor.

Keep in mind that this is essentially Ken's POV, even though it's written in third person. As such, the narration, in terms of facts, isn't really all that reliable. And doubts don't settle with one shot, especially if you've got people always digging them up. All you really need is someone there who can wipe your tears away and say everything will be better.

This looks much better in the screen in my head. Mostly because of the overlaying dialogue.

Only the epilogue left now. Cross your fingers it won't take too long.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Bitter Memories**

'Ken?' Wormmon's voice pierced the non-existent sleep-ridden mind. He had to wonder on occasion which part of the two was nonexistent; the sleep, or the mind itself. It seemed like a pointless question, all in all. One would surely know if their mind had unhinged. What would happen then? Utter insanity, or an autonomous machine prey to nothing save routine? Or would one simply digress into an animalistic state, run on instinct and the world's one law: only the fittest survive?

What a pointless question in the end. If he ever did discover the answer, no doubt he would be in no condition to understand its significance. For in the process the ability for intelligent thought would be lost, but one had to wonder then if it was a price that was worth paying, especially when one considered the cost. After all, would the Digimon Emperor had done so much damage if his own intelligence hadn't been higher than the average, and his brother's influence hadn't spurred it on?

Cackles echoed in his ear, as if the remnants of a past dream or phantom engaging itself with the present world.

_'You give yourself too much credit Emperor_.'

'Ken?' Wormmon's voice overlapped the soft hissing in the last threads of his nightmare as his consciousness returned to the waking world.

'I'm up Wormmon,' he groaned, rubbing his eyes and blinking at the alarm clock's luminescent numbers in the dim light. It was time to get up, but that particular morning had taken an age in coming.

Once the numbers registered in his brain, he noted that the long-awaited dawn had still not arrived.

'It's still three,' the rookie said quietly. 'You were moaning in your sleep.'

'I was?' he asked vaguely. He hadn't realised that. His mind still felt like it was covered in fog.

'Are you okay?' Wormmon asked again, even more concerned than normal. It seemed like the days had darkened since late.

'I'm tired Wormmon,' Ken replied honestly, one hand lethargically rubbing his eyes before burying his face into his pillow. 'I want to sleep.'

Wormmon refrained from commenting, though he knew well the request wasn't aimed towards him but at the demons that plagued his mind and kept him from rest.

_When will you let go?_

'Sweet dreams.'

Not even the barest hint of a smile.

'Thanks Wormmon.'

And he closed his eyes again. Or rather, he let them slip shut. He didn't think he could have kept them open if he wanted. It was just lucky he supposed that it was a break off from school and he didn't have to drag himself through another day at the cold dreary place. It was a place of learning to be sure, but now that he had learnt from the true hands of life, the lessons felt hollow and empty in their paper and their books and on their lectures. Once the lessons had fascinated him. Then there was their brief moment where he had positively despised it. He remembered that. Because his brother was always so _good _at it. It hadn't been fair. That had taken all his parents attention. So he had wished his brother away, so he'd be the one they loved…

And then…

_'You killed him, didn't you?'_

'No!'

'No what?' Wormmon's voice seemed so far away at that point.

'I-I didn't-'

_'I wish – I wish he would just DISAPPEAR!'_

He covered his ears with his palms, but no-one could deny the words that had come from his mouth, that he had remembered so well.

_'And then…he did. Sam was gone forever.'_

The photo seemed to gleam in the moonlight coming through the slit dividing the dual curtains.

_'Yes…'_

Blood. Broken bones. The smell of burnt rubber, then burnt flesh. Then the pristine bones under his fingers, smooth, polished, refined. Even in death, they were perfect. The Ultimum that could never be suppressed but would forever lock him in that shadow.

A cage that had been drawn up by the white bones locked in a perfect skeleton, and water, salty and cold, tricked through the gaps that should have been gifted to air and not the antithesis that struggled to dominate the seas beneath and about the land, the support that held up the earth beneath their feet and pushed up against the source of life. Poison, gift, both of them. Poison trickling down one's throat. Poison drifting through the nose and mouth, infiltrating the lungs and stopping the breath. But water itself, pure, clean, could do that too. Could air do so? Nay. Air gave freedom. Water did neither, and both. Air was life. Each breath. Water was not one nor the other. It was the paradox. Dependent in a scale of perfection. Too little, one dies from want. Too much, one drowns in the overflow.

The waves crashed nearer to the shore.

_ 'He didn't even try to stay. He was free…'_

The wind, gentle or harsh, soothing or tossing its rage upon the walls, remained locked out, beyond the windows, beyond the room, beyond the cage of bones and water drowning.

_'He didn't love you. If he had, he wouldn't have left you here with this...'_

Maybe it was true.

A slap echoed in his memory.

_'Don't touch my things ever again!'_

His cheek burned. Tears, unbidden, began crawling down his cheeks.

_'You remember how it started…'_

Again, and again…

_ 'Don't you want to play with me?'_

_ 'No! I'm busy!'_

They were always too busy. _He_ was always too busy. He just wasn't good enough for them.

_'Wow, what a smart boy your son is. I wish my children were just like him_.'

It was like he hadn't even existed.

_'Never mind. It's not important_.'

It never was.

Never…

'_Just be Ken…'_

The waves shouted out with the force of thunder and the crack-whip of lightning.

_'But who is Ken? Just a little, useless boy. Unseen. Unworth.'_

A whip cracking down.

'_You're sliming up my pants!'_

'Wor-Wormmon?'

_ 'You don't need him. He's not here.'_

The world turned into a purple hue. The water seeped through his socks and soaked his feet. He shivered in the cold. It had never felt so real. And reality had never felt so far away.

_ 'What he did was unforgivable.'_

_ 'He's a murderer. A monster.'_

He was a monster. For all the things he had done.

_'Maybe. But what's a monster, after all? Something shunned. Something rejected. Something abandoned.'_

He was a monster, wasn't he?

_'You've made your hole, now lie in it. I wouldn't forgive you if you held the sun on one hand and the moon in the other then offered them on both knees. You'd probably ruin their light anyhow.'_

But that hurt tone. _'And I was willing to forgive him too…'_

_'That's a lie!'_

The water splashed in his face, washing away the tears cascading down his cheeks. His wet clothes clung to him.

_'Remember how they looked at you? How they turned you away? Not even the children of love had any for you.'_

Not Yolei, who had declared his worthiness less than the dirt he walked on and soiled. Not Sora, who had passed him on the train that same day with a box and an icy glare of hatred. Or maybe he had imagined that.

No, he didn't think so. Hatred suited perfectly.

The bones, the skeleton, took form…somewhat. It was hideous. Vile. Disgusting. Instinctively, he backed away from it. But he could go nowhere.

The white bandages wrapped almost every visible inch of the shapely skeleton. He supposed that was a good thing. But what little he could see, around the right eye, blazing a dark purple, was little bits of flesh hanging off, black and rotten.

'_This is what happens when no-one cares.'_ The lips moved beneath the bandages as they moved and warped into clothes, shining and glimmering in the water. _'But we can change it. We can change the world, make it pay, control it!'_

Change..? Control..?

No! It was all wrong. They'd shown him that.

_'And what has that gotten you? Nothing, except this monster eating away at you.'_

_'Murderer…'_

_'Even at your school…'_

Of course, everybody pretty much ignored the body of the genius turned nutcase. Except when test marks were posted on the board. The teachers were disappointed that he wasn't acting up to his "potential" and the students were a queer enough mix he never quite fit into.

_ '…you never belonged. No-one ever cared…'_

His parents crying. His mother hugging him, whispering in his ear with tears tricking down his cheeks.

_'Ah, how you delude yourself with these sweet dreams…'_

'Dreams?'

The waves rolled over his frozen body.

_'Of course. You didn't think anyone cared enough for the real you. Who is he anyway? Nothing…save a corpse already dead under these heavy burdens.'_

The cloths fell away, and a shrill scream echoed across the waters.

_'We are what we've been made.'_ The voice sounded so sad. _'I don't want it any more.'_

Hands clutched at hair.

'Make it stop. It's not true…is it?'

Was it? Because, in some sick and twisted way, it was true. All of it.

But there had to be something else. There just had to be. There was! There, but he just couldn't _remember_…

But Wormmon had come back, hadn't he? And his parents had given him a second chance.

_ 'Maybe there is still hope for the damned after all…'_

Something clung to his pant leg.

'Ken! Where are you?'

There was a pause, wherein even the waves ceased to make a sound. Then there was noisy crying, and Wormmon was hanging off his soaked pyjamas.

'Wor-wormmon? B-but why?'

The doe blue eyes welled with tears. 'Once,' he sobbed, clinging to his human partner. 'Just once, I want to see you without this heavy burden. The past is past, but you still cling to it.'

The blacking lips twisted into a smile. Not a smirk. A true smile.

_'I lied. You do need him.'_

'You were here all along?' His voice sounded whispery, weak.

The green head shook to and fro. 'You disappeared. I couldn't find you, but I looked everywhere. Your parents are really worried too.'

'My…parents?'

_'Just be Ken. Just be your sweet self. Just try. Please, for me?'_

_'We understand. Please Ken, forgive us.'_

'Oh…Wormmon.' And the cold arms clung to the worm glowing with light in the desolate world. 'If anything else, you're always there.'

_'Join us Ken. Don't walk away from your problems.'_

And there was someone else willing to try as well.

'As long as there is someone else there too, there's no reason for you to carry all the weight alone.'

There was a sniffle from the pitiable curled up bundle and the other automatically extended a hand to comfort it.

The flesh didn't feel rubbery, or coated with blood or dirt or anything. It felt nothing like how Sam's had felt, clutching the sprawled form like a lifeline before the ambulance and those strangers that carried it away. In fact, it almost felt soft. Light. Like him. Lighter.

There had been something under the monster.

'Where are we?' Wormmon asked, adjusting himself.

'I thought we were in the Dark Ocean, but…' He looked at the flower unfolding in his hands. 'I guess I was wrong.'

His eyes blurrily opened. The room was bathed in a rose light. From the keyboard, the crest of kindness was glowing brightly.

'Ken, promise me you won't do that again.'

Wormmon looked at him seriously.

'How can I? I don't even know what I did.'

_That's something you'll learn eventually._

The door flew open suddenly, and his father barrelled in, before almost crushing him in a hug.

'Where have you been?' he yelled in worried anger. 'We've been worried sick about you.'

How could he have ever believed they never cared? How could he have ever considered it wasn't real.

'Oh Dad, I'm sorry.'

'Oh dear, you're soaked.' That was his mother 'Come on dear, let' get you a hot cocoa and out of those things.'

* * *

His D-tector beeped.

'Huh?'

For some reason, his first thought was Davis. But it was from Mimi.

Mimi. The Child of Sincerity.

'They're asking you for help?' If Wormmon had eyebrows, they'd be raised.

Ken looked at the message.

'Let's go Wormmon.'

If they were willing to ask for help, then maybe there was a meeting point along the roads after all. Maybe he couldn't quite let go of all the extra baggage, nor could others stop lumping them at him, but that would slowly change, as long as they all stayed on that road.

'And Wormmon?'

'Yes Ken?'

'Let's finish that jelly roll when we get home.'

'Oh, yummy.'


	6. Epilogue

**Author's Notes**

This is set after the episode where Yolie's Hawkmon digivolves. We all know what happens _in_ the episode.

Finished, finally. That seriously dragged on. And over a lens cleaner of all things.

Enjoy the last installment, and please R&R.

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**Epilogue**

If anyone asked him why he'd go all the way to Odaiba simply to visit a local convenience store, he would simply say he had to be in the local vicinity for a scrimmage soccer match. The truth, which only Wormmon knew, was actually the opposite. The scrimmage match was more of an excuse. Soccer had just been another thing at which Sam had been better at. But that wasn't something that could be learnt from textbooks, so who had taught him?

Sam had taught him to blow bubbles. That he remembered. He remembered the promise he had made to Wormmon, a path that took so many twists and turns that it was a miracle the end point still existed with all the times he had arrived at the point only to deter again from it. Like an oscillating wave, one that decayed with time closer to the axis with each turning point. At least it wasn't self-propagating; an end was somewhere in sight after all. There weren't many other happy memories though, the kind one would threaten forever. Instead, once he thought and organised his thoughts, he realised there were instead rather large blanks in his memory.

Wormmon was at home, otherwise he would have asked him then and there, but he made a mental note all the same. Little tidbits that didn't really make all that much sense: the head Floramon from the village, Veemon and Davis (he had targeted them twice after all), that boy he remembered in the background during their first visit to the Digital World, and the brotherly relationship that seemed to have been clouded in shadow. He knew the last two from the album he had been looking at last night. He knew his brother was a bit of a touchy subject, but when he had inquired about the other boy, the brunette, his parents had looked especially worried and simply said he had moved away some years back.

As for the convenience store he was currently inside, it was owned by the Inoue family. And in his pocket was still the lens cleaner that had been misplaced by their youngest member.

_'I can't wait for the day when you decide to join us. Yolei.'_

Why would she suddenly change her mind? Was it because she hadn't expected him to come? Or had the truth about Golemon shed light on Thundermon's crumbling? Or was she, like everyone else, even him, clouded by some veil which was slowly being cast aside, but never fully removed. He wondered what it would be like if one could see the world without that ever present veil clouding their vision, but he supposed, after a moment of thought, that it would be something incapable, otherwise the veil would not be presence in the first place. It was similar to water; too much or too little was bad in one way or the other, but the equilibrium in which there existed a perfect balance was something utterly elusive to humankind, as were much of the answers to the greater questions of the world.

He was hoping all the same she wouldn't come. The aim was to simply pick up some oregano (his mother had forgotten to pick some up in her shopping trip that morning) and leave the lens cleaner with a sibling or parent and then take his leave. Right now there was a tall man at the counter; her father he presumed. Hopefully, it would stay that way till after his departure, for he disliked confrontation as much as the next flower in his mother's garden bed by the windowsill.

At the counter, he quickly made the exchange. Mr Inoue thanked the other for bringing the lost article, despite how insignificant it seemed, and commented she was out with her friends. That was a disguised blessing, except she walked through the door the moment he was leaving it.

'Ken?'

'Yolei?'

They both paused, a little uncomfortably. Undoubtedly, they would have remained in that pose for a moment or few more, but Poromon beneath Yolei's shirt quietly complained about the lack of movement on his partner's part. Evidently, he was eager to be done with his stuffy enclose.

'What brought you here?' the female asked curiously, rubbing her stomach somewhat embarrassedly. Evidently Poromon had done more than whisper quietly. She looked at the bag, small plastic and carrying a smaller herb packet, and raised an eyebrow.

Ken quietly, and somewhat nervously, replied to the truth before he lost his nerve with it. Courage, he found, was a rather fickle thing, but it came well and all when it was needed. 'I was bringing your lens cleaner.'

'My lens cleaner?' she repeated.

'The one you lost,' Poromon helpfully input.

'I didn't lose it,' Yolei declared loudly, before her father shooed them both away from the door lest another customer should attempt to enter. 'Okay, I kind of did.' She blinked. 'How did you find it? I would have thought the wind of the Digital World would have blown it far away by now.'

He looked down ever so slightly. 'I found it when you guys were fixing up Primary Village.'

Her lips parted slightly. 'Oh, I see.' She bowed thereafter in the usual custom. 'Thank you for returning it.'

He bowed back and made to leave, but her voice stopped him. 'Wait.'

He stopped, but didn't return.

'I just wanted to say…' There was a bit of an awkward pause, before she blurted out. 'I was wrong about you.'

'No you weren't,' he automatically replied. 'You had every right to think and say what you did.'

'Hold on a sec.' Even though he wasn't looking directly at her, he knew she was frowning. 'How do you know, unless-Oh, I'm sorry Ken. That's the worst way for someone to find something out, especially when circumstances change. I accused you without knowing that Thundermon was a Control Spire. And I meant what I had said before that. I was willing to believe you when I thought you had changed.'

She took a deep breath. 'Davis was right too,' she admitted. 'How can you prove you've changed if we don't give you the chance? I suppose sometimes it's a bit hard to pick out the new yummy berry from all the bitter ones. Err, what I'm trying to say is-'

'It takes time for people to change their views,' Poromon supplied helpfully. 'And Yolei, since this is only Ken, can I come out?'

_Only Ken?_ That was the first time someone had addressed him like that, and he could feel the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

'Oh, I suppose. There's no-one else here.' She sighed as Poromon burst out, before fixing her rumpled shirt. 'We're not the only ones who need time,' she said truthfully. 'I think you need some too, to see you're not the same person, and there are people reaching out to help you and be your friend like you do to them. Don't take too long though.'

'Because Yolei wants to-'

'Poromon!' Yolei yelled, blushing. 'Ignore him Ken.'

Ken blinked. She seemed rather relaxed. And the loose atmosphere seemed enough to coax him in too…slightly. For the most part, it was still something new and foreign and segmented.

'I need to be going.'

She waved. 'Be sure to come back some time.'

_ 'I can't wait for that day…'_

Maybe it wouldn't be so long after all. More and more, it was becoming a possibility.


End file.
